Argonauts
by Lycastus
Summary: A fan fiction about a group of dogs searching for Paradise and the lives of Quent, Darcia, and Kiba before the official series began. It starts out slow, but please review if you have the time.
1. Beginings

Disclaimer: I don not own Wolf's Rain...I do own my own characters such as Argus and all the other dogs or wolves not found in the anime.

She was fleeing sprinting through the darkened foliage at a swift pace. Harried by the eats wind, unforgiven by the west; Cardinal directions had failed her. All had lust the luster of life, and so why not her soul as well. The fleeting hope of battle shifted desperately through her mind, a natural instinct. Fight or Flight. She had attempted to run from her pursuing foe, but now war revealed itself as a rational and logical means of escape.

So the beast turned, hackles digging into the air, and faced the optics of lemon before her. Wolf. Lupus eyes. Dropping to her belly and curling her haunches into a grasshopper position she crouched; cat-like, waiting, caught within the moment that cannot exist to those observing. The expanse between life and death, right and easy, strength and weakness. Those eyes moved up and down lazily, but not missing the intent of all preying animals, bobbing to and fro in the darkness with the footfalls cast by the sorry lycus. She sighted, within her vermillion headlights, the neck veining plumes of white fur and sprang.

The male grasped the air with his muzzle, the bitch caught only his ear…But that one ear was enough for her advantage. A yelp quavered in the celestial zephyr's of time and the stars paused from their ancient chanting to the Creator to frown upon the act of violence. The alabaster wolf struggled as she swung him by his ear into the earth, but rebounded from the blow too suddenly for her reflexes. Trees flinched as their favored, the hound of man, was dragged to the earth by the fire's wolf. And the stars smiled.

The dog gazed fondly into the moon, anything to escape the custard eyes of tawny corn crop gold, but the emotion was not returned by the night or any other governing body in that ink blot sky. The darkness love's not the dog, and the light fondles only the wolf. His fangs were unsheathed and fell pray to her flesh, her blood, the earth flinched at the scents of Reaper's working, and the hound fell dead in the dust; asking 'Why' to the heaven's, but the night would not answer and only silence reigned over the moonscaped plains.

She had run from that lupo because the night seduces only the wolf.

Argus sighed fixedly as the romping street cars motored past in their usual routes. It was almost the time of feeding, but the prospect of a meal could not be won over the dilemma of pushy machines that would run a dog flat in a bird's breath. Every time he mustered the courage to race over the fowl smelling asphalt another angry automobile would stampede by and threaten, with a high honk, that the road was car's territory alone.

_How can humans manage to get over the accursed street then?_

He mused absent-mindedly as he strolled further up the sidewalk, closer to the heartbeat of the city slums. The padding paws echoed faintly down the maze alleyways, but always went unnoticed city dwellers. Just another stray dog. Just another starving canine ready to eat us out of house and home. None provided for the stubborn bums in the doorways and so the habit of ignoring the dogs also seemed only logical.

The scrawny tail swished hypnotically through the air, stroking it as a prostitute her buyer (the sick man who cares none for life), and her matted mange rode up and down steadily with his trot. Before him there was the usual sleet walls of town, and to his right the cars speckled street. The left held only confusing passages through the rectangle fashion buildings that scraped the raveled fleeces of the cumulous from the sky.

_Speaking of the sky._

He glanced up at the summer's trademark heavens: pure cyan with a cruel solar body shipping shafts of arrowed light towards the earth like little ovens so hot. Being a snow dog could not always be an advantage he supposed.

His rear was followed only with the suburbs of the agora absent town, and what little people foolish enough to live in well manicured houses, that were as identical as cotton balls, had long since retreated from steaks and grills of concrete patios and into the dungeons of their own homes. Children would be pasted in front of televisions and house dogs would lie forgotten in the corner, dreaming of when they were played with and loved.

By now Argus had reached the wall in the city that seemed to serve as ever dog's lavatory and he scented the many marks with care. The two poodles two blocks south of the park were getting groomed and an unfortunate akita had been informed of his owners decision to buy a cat. Nothing important… except… He hesitated. The odd scent was wild, musky like a polecat's breath. Dare he look into the life of a strange wandering hound, for that was her breed, and thus involve himself in business not his own?

Yes.

He was bored, hungry, and tired. Ergo, the option was like a breath of fresh air, though the smell would have been detested by a human. Argus read over the Morse code meanings of each scent in mind. She was a bitch, a feral dog, and was in the pursuit of someone. He withdrew at the next unscripted wafting for the idea was suicidal. A wolf.

_What dog in their right mind would chase a devil dog?_

If he had been sensible he might have backed away, swiftly if he had been quick, but his curiosity was at a zenith which could not be climbed out of or leapt from.

A wolf?

The scent of her trail was still clinging to the earth, and a nearby tree pointed the way with it's lofty branches. The wind whistled through the rotten leaves and the pin pricked ears of Argus heard the warning of the plant clearly,

"Careful, young dog, the hound was chasing the wolf for answers and it is not wise for the domesticated wolf to set out for Paradise."

Argus shifted uneasily and wound steadily through the stream of humans fighting to get to their furnaces and homes like obese cats, but the bouvier hybrid christened Argus could not lay about like a feline, but neither could he run like a wolf.

As all dogs, he settled for a trot and followed his nose into the horizon.


	2. Flower Dog

Disclaimer: I still do not own Wolf's Rain. I still own my own characters.

Author's Note: The second chapter of the series. Just a hint, a keen reader will spot possible references to elements from Wolf's Rain and maybe even a few will notice characters. Enjoy.

His aching paws were the only breaker of the silent road, that damned clear space in the distance that winds forever into the horizon. There can be no telling when the path will end or where the refuge a waited lies. One can't even know when the sores from scorched cities and frozen forests will heal over the trials of time. It just goes on and on…

Ringing sharply in his mind the complaints of his being roamed, ready to discourage what his spirit longed to accomplish.

_We're hungry._

_I'm tired._

_You can't even see where you're going._

_We need a rest._

_I'll keep screaming until you stop this foolish journey._

"Stop."

His tongue betrayed him even now, for it was encased in fowl dust and carbon stirred up like silt from passing cars, and his eyes would blink in rapid procession just to keeping awake. The sun was setting and, as the ruler of the dawn and day lay elevated stubbornly between earth and sky, he to could not decide which path to take. What to do. Where to go. He had not the energy to run or the cowardice to lie down in the mire and die like a flea bitten mongrel.

Her scent was fresh in the potter's clay and each tentative, sluggish downbeat of his paws formed indents in the soft mud that seemed the only mourners for his grave. He must keep moving. The driving inside him was more than just the fleeting hope of adventure and a novel written travel before tea, it was a whirlwind of musings unfelt before. And at the moment he felt no name could correctly invoke the description of the matter.

No matter; just keep walking and maybe you'll think it up. Somehow.

He veered off the narrow way as a thundering four wheeler screamed by. The driver had thought the truck, which guzzled enough valuable fuel to begin with, sounded much more 'awe inspiring' without a muffler, but to other it only served as a buzzing nuisance that could not and would not shut up. His tongue lulling in a death stance from his mouth, Argus limped further down wind from the human, well worn road. The scent had shot off from there and he needed only to follow this, if not the aspect of emotion that welled inside him. Carefully he attempted to maneuver down the slope before him, but in his tiredness he lost the precious footing on earth that all are willing to fight and slay for. Down he fell, like Lucifer foolish, into the dark mouth of mystery beneath him so swiftly that no remorse or fear could be invoked.

_Thud!_

He yelped, for he was not a strong or extremely tough animal. Merely a scrounging city dog that received scraps from a pitting little lass who was allergic to canines but longed for one anyways. He had never fought, but he would soon learn. His sharp descent startled an owl and caused it to fly, wayward and questioning, away; plum eyes shining greedily. About his strewn carcass the beetles bounded unknowing of the large world around them and the flowers mourned their fallen comrades who were flattened between the dog and ground.

But, though he was not seriously injured, he did not rise from the resting place ad slept soundly for many moments, for, as said, he was not a brave or very persistent animal. He dreamed of nothing but the snow strewn taigas and the pining forests of fairy tale and Nature magazine. He also, though, dreamed of wolves. Darkened by sorrowed, lightened by pain, and tawny from being thrust into the earth. He dreamt of owl eye colored wolves covered in blood and dying. And he dreamt of the wolf that the hound was chasing. The wolf which he was also chasing.

After the last wolf had fled from his dreams he awoke to the sun dressing in between the rosy hills, and the moon slipping away her virgin veil for a nap with the sky. Argus was renewed, alive, and ready to travel. After relieving himself on a nearby stump he snuffled through the truffle dusted dirt until the scent of the dog was again found. Turning back towards the place where he had fallen he noticed a lone ivory flower, pink around the petal's edge, growing placidly by where his head had lain. It was lovely and the capering scent of the slender waisted shrubbery was outdone by the lily like flowers wafting scent.

He shook his head.

_Argus, you've been dreaming for too long._

And he loped away from the sight with a sigh for the sound slumber had there.

Within the enclosed expanses of road side foliage the creature waited. Shifting under the new weight of decisions on its mind. The sideways winding flocks of geese drifted tiredly above and, to the south, a lumbering, cumbersome, bear bumbled through blackberry hives with intent for dinner. He was hungry himself, but the other end of his mind was more practically weighted than the id. His superego as some called it.

The beast darted over the cooking stones of a human's road and turned his attention to the smells of the small and meager woods. An animal not from this area stirred up the corpses of autumn's leaves and disturbed the graves of very animal that had died wild in the area. A city dog, a whelping wimp unfit to hunt or run into the harsh western wind.

His hackles raised, but he composed himself. Duty was calling and his stomach's pleas may also be answered.

Furtively the wolf crouched low to the grass and began to stalk the smell of stranger; a drifting dog soon to meet an end ever so unpleasant.


	3. Cry Wolf

Disclaimer: You know the drill….Blah…blah…er…blah.

Author's Note: The last chapter was rather disappointing but I was enclosed in a bad case of writer's block. I'll try to make this one slightly more interesting. In this chapter an old character makes a permanent appearance so be prepared. You may not recognize him though.

The wolf was on him before Argus could realize he had even been attacked. The mass of fur and muscle weighed heavy on him and a jagged mouth sliced into his shoulder. He cried out in surprise, questioning, and pain as blood bathed the dying grass below his shaking body. He had seen a fight between two dogs before, and so he supposed that he must bite back or die.

Mustering up his strength he lashed out towards the open neck with his own muzzle and latched on to the animal. The wolf drew up in somewhat surprise and slung the dog from his person. Argus, by beginners luck, managed to land on his feet and surveyed the assault driven foe. The creature was what appeared to be a large dog, much like a malamute or Newfoundland, but with the bottle brush styled tail of a husky or fox. The animal's legs were thin, yet strong and its optics glinted with a look Argus had never chanced to see in a dog's eyes. The fur was long and seemed to move in a steady flow, though it was obviously ungroomed by human hands, and wavered to short and more cropped lengths in other areas such as the face and front of the legs. Down the lanky, limber looking limbs there plumed, in the back, longer hairs, and these legs were rooted by enormous paws with unkempt and unworn claws.

At first Argus assumed this to be some long lost canid that was mixed from the most ominous of all breeds, but suddenly he found he knew that answer to his own question about its nature. The beast was a wolf. The titmouse coloring or its fur was somewhat dandelion yellow, but was more woven with tans, mahoganies, and ancient looking browns. Here and there a patch of steel hair were clumped, not from age, but the stress of wild living. In those fierce eyes he found not only hatred, but also a remarkable shade of black expanse as if the wolf had no eyes at all, but merely universes that had been captured in its skull and windowed on museum display without an included caption.

These observations were taken in a split moment and the wolf crouched to leap again. Argus prepared himself for the blow, but, deciding to prolong his life, turned to discourse in a means to prevent this wolf form disemboweling him.

"Wait," He cried more pathetically than he had meant to sound, "why are you attacking me?"

_That was stupid sounding…_

He scolded himself instantly after the comment.

The wolf grunted in annoyance and gazed at Argus through the black holes that wre his optics.

"I am a wolf." He explained as if to toddler, "And you are a dog. Not only are you disturbing the peace of the forest, but I am also hungry and you will serve as a nice dinner. Now that we have that sorted out-"

The wolf crouched once more.

Argus wildly looked about.

"Er, but what does me being a dog have to do with anything?"

_That sounded even worse, you don't want this wolf thinking you're ignorant._

Again the irked wolf rose and glared at the frightened dog.

"Listen, Bingo, dogs and wolves generally don't like each other. Every mother's whelp knows that. Now if you don't mind I would like to kill you before sun down so I am not late for other more important affairs."

"But you can't…er…that is kill me." Argus was desperate by now and tried again to stall the wolf and his fangs, "I am searching for-"

_What had that damn tree said!? It started with a 'p' maybe it means something to wolves…Er…Para-something…Pair of socks…_

The wolf circled him ominously.

_Paring knife-_

The beast drew back its black bloated lips in an unpleasant look that was no welcoming smile.

_Pair of dancers…Two turtle doves…Uh…_

A growl arose deep in the bowls of the wolves throat and its nails scraped the earth in anticipation. Slinking low to the ground it advanced forcefully. And as the jaws flipped open in the wolf's mouth Argus found his desired word.

"Pardise!"

He yowled, flinching for the oncoming blow.

"I'm searching for paradise."

The wolf stopped and stared at the tail tucked dog. His hackles rose, his eyes flashed amusedly, and then the great beast looked to the sky and began to laugh.


	4. New Quest, Country Town, and a Cur

Author's Note: Wow, after reviewing my last two chapters I found that they were really short and fairly boring….not to mention corny. I'll try to step it up and lengthen them. Sorry for my writing abilities or lack there of.

The lupus lowered his head in mock reverence as he gorged upon his repast of teasing this wayward mongrel. Those ebony optics wavering in the distant lights of the cotton ball clouds that veiled the lunar body in the heavens from its daily rounds. The cloud themselves were cumulus and occasionally there was a whiff or to in there drunken advancements of slender, lady-like stratus with pallid bottoms and reedy figures. Tossed about by the breeze their procession had led them over the continence of the drawing consciousness of the daylight moon and they seemed to even be conquesting to overthrow the solar gentleman who watched in a patently and tyrannical manner over the cyan skies of morning, midday, and early evening. But then clouds are always ambitious and belligerent.

Argus, cocking his head in realization and confusion, chanced a ghost of emotion in the youth's eyes, but the wolf turned from him in an instant. He despised being gazed at squarely in his galactic irises for they displayed the faint tints and hauntings of his desired mood and or thought. His body stance was relaxed, but he did not believe entirely that this dog would not strike a blow to his haunches and so he shifted around once more, at least part way, so he could keep a black eye on the dog. His mouth was ajar slightly and the wolf's tongue lulled out in a serious way that suggested he no longer found the idea of a dog searching for heaven amusing. The husky tone of his voice was also grave and direct, he wanted the foolish animal to understand his message as any intelligent animal should be able to.

"A dog like you… shouldn't go looking for Paradise. It's deer shit and a fairy tale for the fools who wish to follow such a path."

The wolf faced Argus fully and raised his hackles in dominance.

"Besides I can tell that you're lying to me about your quest. You really," he sized up the bury mutt, "are hounding a bitch down."

Argus lowered his head to hide his surprise.

"Am I right, dog? Can a fallen wolf such as you ever have any other purpose than having intercourse to produce your kind? That is why an animal like you could never find Paradise. You're filthy breed is just there to help man with his hunting and his self confidence in himself."

The lycus spat into the earth through his clenched teeth and Argus continued to look at the miry dust in shame. The wolf left him there, just staring into the expanses between the world and hell, the lowest link in the world's chain that only served as a nescience to those who traveled and wandered the earth: the dust. What little power it had and how greatly it was downtrodden by the left reminder of the wolf's presence, his markings of having walked the area. Argus' paws were too small to fit in such large 'shoes', such wide expectations. And so he stared at the earth for many moments. Maybe several hours had passed, maybe days of forgotten meaning to the dog, but more likely it was only seconds. No matter the time, when he looked up the wolf had left him in his thoughts.

Alone.

He raised his nose to the wind and smelt the finger tips of the sky itself for any notion that he hadn't conjured that encounter from his vivid imagination. No scent and no indication he had ever seen a wolf.

_Maybe I'm going mad, but I know I saw him… and those eyes._

The dog shook his head and replaced the fresh smell of the air with the rancid, yet knowledgeable one of the dirt. He could smell the dog he was chasing, and he could smell he anticipation for the wolf she was also hunting. Quite suddenly, though, he came to an agreement with his mind. Why chase fairies and whisking wolves and dogs across the endless landscapes? He had found his own quarry, he had found a wolf. They existed.

_And I want to prove him wrong._

The thought came over him before he could prevent it, but there was no denying the truth. He wished to show the lupus and his race of the nobility of dogs.

_He was partially correct about my previous quest, now I have switched and he is wrong. So I may also seek this place that the wolves know of. Twice now someone has titled me a fallen wolf and so I will pick myself from this dust and ride the winds of the moon to the location he spoke of, the one told to me by trees: Paradise. That damn wolf… he…_

Argus ran before he could finish the musing. His loping footfalls echoing into the silence that is the day and awaiting the sharp attacks of night's symphony. As he wove under the skyward inclining roots of a pine topped tree the voices of it whirled through his brain.

_Find a paradise foolish dog and you stay as you are, O Fallen angel, discard a paradise and you become a man, but become a wolf and you mutate into something more. Become a paradise and you change from hound to hunted._

He could not grasp the meaning of the statement now, but he would come to know its truth or lie in time. All things come in time, whether good or fowled, all events and happenings migrate from God to earth itself and make themselves known. Thus it is with life. But it is not so with death. Argus had not come to understand this either though, and it was unlikely that he ever would, for not even the night wolf grasps death, and even the reaper cannot fell himself from knowing his ways. Thus it is with life.

The ivory of his pelt shivering under the coaxings of the zephyrs in the horizon's displayed keep of all winds. Mellowed eyes of lemon searching wildly over the starlit expanses of the night and all its eyes watching. Observing what he would do. The race he had partaken was underway and he glanced about the wolves before him. Which was he against?

Near the rear a male shifted in between the groups laid out under the constellations of Lupus and the bright beckon of the snake skin green shade of Sirius and made his way in a hostile way to the center where the white wolf waited. Eagerly the two glanced between each other. Written in each other's eyes was destiny, duty, and a dying green fire that was dimmed in comparison to Sirius' but was fierce still.

_We were once friends._

_We were always enemies._

Around them the circle of the lupus began to cry forlornly to the Divine She Wolf above that some title the moon. They were scared. Would these two foolish, rash and belligerent parties be those that were born and raised to deliver the world or otherwise destroy it?

The eggshell one was far more eager for blood, but the plum-black canine too engulfed in his emotions and impulses. They were unfit for the task entirely, but they were required if Heaven were ever to be reached.

The light and the dark will always clash and bicker about an "elephant that none of them have seen".

The straightforward and bluntness of the light and the spontaneous and changing shadows of the dark mirrored in each optic held by both elements. Still no confidence was held in either and that was for good reason.

The town before him was quaint and small, the sort of arrangement that if you had been cruising by in an automobile and blinked it would never be viewed or explored by you, and smelled of withered Indian corn. About the front of it lay a slightly swaying sign that dangled pathetically form rusted iron hinges and read in friendly cursive script, 'Welcome to Maximsville. Enjoy your visit'.

Visit where?

The only buildings in sight were a general store, breakfast in bed inn, and town hall (all in the same building), and sad small pox scattered log cut pioneer looking homes. Upon further inspection one noticed the dimensions of the town and how a bar and fruit market also were provocatively placed behind the recently mentioned structures. At the end of the flat, un-swept, and pointlessly short Main Street lay a white washed picket fence that ran in a quail like fashion about the similarly painted country mansion beyond it. The shudders of the well kept home were cobalt black but could be hinted with very obscure, very dark sea green and on the dark porch lay a sleeping mongrel that, at first glance, looked like an overgrown mop without a handle. The flowers were some selectively breed, yet lovely, articles that shaded an almost rosy, sunset pink in contrast to the house and marched up and down its front cobblestone walk like renegade legions and continued to surround the house in a position of both defense and welcoming. The posts of fence stopped before the start of the walk way and this beginning was shrouded with the overgrown pea vines from a wrought iron arch which was burdened by the neatly untrimmed crawlers. In between the walkway's cracks grew lumped and bulging grass that resembled something one might find in a Zen garden. This was the rebel seedlings of the mangled lawn which filled all the other areas of the front yard, besides a dying jaded tree that splashed its veined leaves over the stiff grass.

The manor was a picture of cliché country homes, but did have the desired affect on the looker, who was (if you have forgotten) a dog named Argus, which was the longing inside of him to live the simple life within the picket walls of the place. He shook his head as if to erase the feeling, for he must not get distracted from his main goal at the time and mused to have discourse with the canine that lay sprawled over the fraying boards of the entrance of the home. But as he moseyed down the minuscule city's single street an onlooker from another building leapt rather violently in front of him.

She was much smaller and rounded than him, but there was a fire in her uncovered optics that he had seen once before: in the dark eyes of that phantom wolf. By breed she appeared to be a red merle Catahoula Cur Dog with a long, slender, plumed tail that was tipped with an orange-ish cream shade which matched her left most ear. Her muzzles was a simple white shade, but her nose, in contrast to the usual black, was a clay brown with a hint of dark maroon.

Those ivory lips curled back into a snarl and Argus, with fear, noticed the aged paper coloring of her teeth which meant that fighting was a reoccurring instance for her. Argus, whose ego had been both extinguished and raised by the encounter with the wolf, lifted his hackles in challenge, but also lowered his tail in reverence. The Catahoula, a believed mixture of various 'war dogs' such as mastiffs and grey hounds, strode closer on her short haired and ominously muscular limbs. The reddish dappling of her coat was gaping in a hellish fashion, as if she were some hell hound materialized out of thin air for his audacity to search for a wolve's paradise.

Suddenly she spoke,

"What is a mutt like you doing in this town?"

He stared squarely at her in the optics and noticed that they were a glossy ice blue; Shredded, 'glass eyes' that were light and dim as if she were blind, and she was. He recoiled slightly be regained his composure instantly as not to cower before a female.

"I'm just passing through."

Pressing her nose against his she hissed,

"Then pass through, bastard."

_Woah now, what the heck does she have against me?_

As if she had read his mind she lowered her self slightly and then sprang onto his hulking form. Lighter, but a better fighter and much more limber and or agile the two might have been evenly matched had it not been for a small child who indignantly broke up the beginnings of a brawl between the two.

"Shawl," the kid bellowed as if playing the role of a vexed parent," we allow you to live here on this street and feed you but you know the laws: NO FIGHTING!"

Suddenly, instead of parenting she had become some sort of authoritative politician. The bitch, whose name was apparently, at least to the humans, called Shawl, did not seem to change her mood but did back slowly from his person, fangs still exposed and clenched in contempt. The child caressed the cur's ears for a moment and then skipped away to other business that she needed to fowl. The female turned once more to Argus and spat in the dirt.

"Don't get any ideas, mongrel, and don't listen to that kid. She has no control over me…" and as she edged away he swore that her mumblings continued to herself as if from some primal habit, "and my name is not 'Shawl'."

The further distanced dog on the porch, a creamy yet smudged white Komondor, raised his head from a mock sleep and frowned upon the scene as if he too, like the misguided child, also held some higher power over the matter(which he did indeed), and barked in an ocean deep, sandpaper jagged voice,

"That'll be enough down in the gutter… Some people are trying to sleep."


	5. Cuneiformed

Author's Note: Okay, so the last chapter was also very pointless and boring but I liked it. All my new characters are beginning to show up and there was even reference to the main plot in the narrative. Ah… Thank you faithful readers for your time and patience…er…that is if there are any faithful readers...(?) Also I realized that stars to indicate a change in time or place do not show up and so I am indicating change now with either bold or italic text.

Argus lifted himself from the dust almost indignantly and huffed from, seemingly, annoyance (when really it was him clearing debris from his nostrils) and cocked his head in the direction of the Hungarian herding dog on the porch. The mop dog had by now, as if mirroring the bouvier descendent, also risen to all four paws and was directed towards Argus. Argus, though, had no way of knowing whether or not the dog was truly looking at him or not, for the gentleman's fur fell pell-mell over his eyes and so his emotions, impulses, and even his points of visual interest were cut off from anyone with the time or desire to interpret such matters. Though, when an animal has lifted himself from a soothing slumber and is facing your cardinal direction it is always assumed that his view is one that which woke him up. Unfortunately, contrary to this popular belief, the herding dog was not staring at Argus, but at the female.

Down he fell his belly so that his appearance was that of a stretching cat's, and the motives were the same as such, but in a strained and somewhat satisfied voice he called after her retreating form,

"Now, Sir, where are you loping off to in such a hurry. That's all you ever seem to accomplish in life; just running through the grass with a 'rattle-rush, rattle-rush, swosh'…-Don't ignore me, Sir."

The cur had continued to stride away as if the older canine's words had no more meaning than the cruel gossip of the wind. The Komondor huffed indignantly and finally stepped down from the aged pedestal of rocking chairs and the occasional hornet's nest to whisk after the dog whose name was not 'Shawl' (as had been said by the human) but 'Sir' (as had been said by the dog; which was a more reliable source than any little child). His bulky coat bristled as the walking carpet brushed against the hide of Argus and the bouvier could have sworn that the gruff vocals of the other were menacing but stifled when he hissed,

"Don't rile up this town or you'll regret it. This is what everyone desires and I don't want it mucked up by some traveling scoundrel."

And then he was gone; lost within the welcoming shadows of the nearby pass between two of the few simplistic homesteads. Argus did not bother to observe his plight, though, and instead turned to the walkway of the large manor with the curiousness of a four month old whelp. The mysteriously obvious place was like a lure in the depths of a particularly boring reef bed. He was a foolish little sardine and he took the bait.

Skulking up to the ajar gate, for the large herding dog had forgotten entirely about closing it, he swung his head both hither and thither but saw neither man nor beast, and, thus, proceeded towards the forbidden fruit of the tiny town. Untrimmed nails sounding sharp yet soft _'click', 'click', 'click'_ noises on the rough stones. Closer still the tempting site loomed, just a little bit closer…-

"Spoodle! Where are you boy?... I told you not to leave the porch. Spoodle!"

Argus dived into- nothing. There was absolutely nowhere to hide behind or cower beneath; no conveniently placed bush to his right and no lawn ordainment to his left merely open crab grass and its other cousins for as far as the white washed fence. Still the sudden shout startled him enough to cause him to start and turn in search of a requiem, and this leap is what spared him any consequence for his actions. Jostling past him was the Komondor, that whirlwind of a moving mop, and then the dog rushed up to the rather well busted woman on the porch to tailor to her need at the moment. As he reached her he turned briefly and barked,

"Scram, you mongrel, before someone sees you!"

And Argus complied very nicely with the rushed request and did not linger around the house or its dog any longer that day.

_Abik swatted at the buzzing hornets with his tail, the white one. Occasionally he would be struck by the rear end of such and insect but in this ever so often there was no pain. He was used to suffering by now and a simple minded bug could not convince him otherwise. A quest was a quest and he intended to keep to his word, stay true to the footpath and beat the dark one in this race of time and trial. He would need companions though, if it was willed and worked that he should win, and so in his conniving brain the procedure he had taken up for hundreds of years fell into play._

_Find a sorry lot and lead them astray of themselves and onwards towards the goal. His plan had never failed before and doing otherwise was Craadi's folly in the matter. He didn't use people to his advantage, but instead slew them if they were not quick to comply to his terms. Still, maybe Craadi's ways were easier if not as effective…_

Argus lifted his head from the sun deprived den that he was resting in and began to review the events of the past. How had he gotten from the quaint country community to this burrow tucked away in a painfully familiar forest? These wonderings were plaguing him when he hearkened, from outside the hole, a faint rustling noise and edged forwards to investigate. It was the Cur bitch shuffling herself slyly between the brush and shrubs; awkwardly. Then as she cleared the veil of foliage he saw her reason for such stifled staggering for he front leg was cut into at the point where the paw was attached to the ankle and where, usually, the normal strains of walking took place.

He was caught between the expanses of chivalry and dislike for the female and had never good at making up his mind on such foolish impulses, but it was no longer a matter for she spotted him as quickly as any wild animal does so to its prey. In an almost grotesque manner she crouched, seeming to discard the pain in her leg, and then made a movement as if to leap at him, but a large barrier of flesh and dread-locked fur drew evenly in front of both Argus and Sir, for that was indeed her true name.

The oddly charcoaled Komondor sneezed in disgust but then advanced towards the Cur slowly, the familiar low and sand papered voice sending a chill down Argus' spine.

"Sir, calm down. I don't want you to get hurt again-"

"There's nothing that bastard can do to me! Just- just…Step aside, Cuneiform!"

Argus lowered himself deeper into the hole as to avoid the growing conflict, but was stopped by the older dog that was apparently called 'Cuneiform'. The veiling bangs shielding those beetle sized eyes were parted at the moment, from strife or stress, and the plains of thought concealed within them bored accusingly into Argus' soul.

"Stranger, did you do it?"

Argus scratched his head as if the action were a nervous tick of sorts and then stuttered in bewilderment,

"Do what? What are you talking about…?"

The Cur behind the Komondor snarled with rage and seemingly open emotion,

"You know what we speak of, otherwise you wouldn't be hiding inside your little hell hole!"

Argus was not a bold or gaudy dog but he was not willing to clean the feet of another canine for too long and so he rose from the ground and let a growl form in his throat. The noise was half annoyed but, in an odd way, somewhat satisfied with his courage towards the female. She, for all his gusto shown, merely huffed as if dealing with dung in the gutter and flung her body over the larger dogs and landed before him in the most frightening way hat all his spirit was lost and his ears fell flat in submission.

The female laughed haughtily as if she would have the situation no other way and was seemingly was about to strike when two things happened:

The Komondor grabbed her foreleg and swung her away from Argus by it.

And in the spot where she had been there landed the wolf with the universe optics, blood flirting down his fur and a hint of fear in his ebony eyes.


	6. White Wolf, Burnt Dog

_Author's Note: Hmmm… The mysterious wolf has found his way back into the tale and then we find story beginning to kick up a notch on its branch. Tenqu, Craadi, Abik…? Think the original series and then think anagrams…. That's all this time but I have to say that I'm very happy with the story so far._

Those black eyes cascading over all that was merged into the moment of desperation and confusion as the wolf drew his gaze even with Argus'. Sir squirmed away from Cuneiform and Argus fell back in fear from the lupine intruder. The wolf turned to the Cur in a commanding, condemning tone,

"Don't make a move to hurt either me or the dog, bitch."

Sir stopped dead and her maw, clenched into curved canyons, quivered in defiance; those eyes harsh and questioning. Argus' fur was prickling from the livid air and he felt that it was probable that the female could attack the wildeor and come out the victor. The mop dog was tensed and obviously on edge around the wolf and even his muzzle was beginning t lift and reveal aged, yellowed canines. His ocean voice waving anger into the stiff necked air,

"Wolf, you- did you-" he cut off and lowered his head in a way which caused the impression of pain being thrown over his being.

The heavy hackles on Cuneiform's neck and back began to grow towards the gathering storm above. Sir seemed to read his rage well and took a threatening step towards Argus and the wolf and the two small town dogs began to circle about the bouvier and the lupus.

"I'm sure it was a wolf who did it.." Cuneiform muttered through his growling, "I know I saw one standing over the smoldering wreckage and- and-"

"-Only a bastard wolf would do such a thing!" Sir tore the tone in her throat as she snapped in a faux attack towards Argus' heels as was all herding dog's custom.

The wolf looked eager to fight the opposing animals and also fell into the fad of showing those needled fangs, black eyes gorging themselves upon the heather clouds above and the promise of a battle bathed in blood. Argus, though, was scared. He had never wrestled or fought anything larger than the occasional belligerent alley cat. But a dog…

He shuddered in spite of himself.

The moment had apparently come and Sir was crouching lowered to the dust and the Komondor was lowering his head to charge. The wolf was also beginning a spring towards the Cur and Argus was bent on what he would do to evade all attacks. But all of these intended plans were destroyed when a melodic voice cast its shadow over the company,

"Be still, my kin, for you have nothing to fight over. The wolf and the dog had nothing to do with the fire. I do know who slaughtered your town though and I will tell you if you consent to peace."

All four heads rose and standing upon a fallen tree, the cloud strewn sky silhouetting his frame, was an ivory wolf, untouched by blemish of the fur, with eyes burning like the treacherous sun.

Cuneiform's hackles lowered and he bowed his head in reverence, for there was a powerful feel to the air shared by the animal, but Sir would not relent from her aggressive nature.

"So what, wolf, you may have been the one who destroyed our town and be lying to cover up for your weakling henchmen. I won't believe you though-"

The Komondor flung himself before her, though, and shifted until their noses were close to touching.

"No," he mouthed soothingly, "I don't want you killing yourself for no reason."

Sir tried to brush past him but his body, being bigger than hers acted as wall from her opponents at the moment. The tawnier f the wolves, Argus' defender, squinted at the white canine suspiciously and then flattened his ears as warning to the new comer. The faded cream wolf, though, merely blinked his jaded gold eyes as if in greeting an old friend and the black eyed wolf snarled.

"Calm down, I don't mean anyone harm I just wish to inform you of the feind who has killed that-" he paused as if some nerve had been struck but regained himself before he was even lost in the thought, "-that which you love."

With that he leapt from his position on the fallen foliage and attempted to greet the other wolf in the traditional fashion but was not obliged to at all as the sanded wolf gave a stern shoulder and shifted away. This seemingly did not daunt the bone hued lupus and he continued his speech,

"The town from whence those two dogs came was destroyed by a wolf indeed, but one who is not like you or I," he motioned to the dust coated canine, "He is a fanatic paradise seeker who believes that only the lupine race is fit to live on this earth because they were chosen for paradise. Now he seeks this requiem in hopes of destroying the world and opening up the wolves' haven so that every other beast has toiled for naught. I, though, am his enemy and he mine for I wish all for be equally rewarded in Paradise. My name is Abik and I want you all to join me in my quest."

The Cur relaxed from her offensive stance and threw back her head in a chortle. Cuneiform cocked his head to the side and carried a smirk as if holding back such laughter, and Argus felt his leg muscle spasm as if from excitement.

_This wolf is looking for paradise. I didn't think it was possible but apparently he wants us to accompany him on his quest for paradise. Maybe-_

Argus shook the thought from his mind instantly and returned his gaze to the sky lined stare belonging to the faded wolf. He was inclined to say something but was cut off by the wolf with the black eyes,

"What sort of propaganda do you expect us to believe?!"

Suddenly Sir seemed to agree with her once enemy and cut in a comment,

"You probably started that fire just to recruit us on your little hell quest."

The ebony eyes met the Cur's and the expression shared was not friendly. The wolf's muzzle began to contract and Sir's hackles stood on end, her tail mimicking them to the letter. Still, though, the ivory wolf kept his composure and fell in-between the two aggressive canines in a gesture of peace. Sir, having no respect or trust for him, proceeded to snap warningly at his sides.

An emotion over the star light sight, maybe Argus' own optics had fooled him, but he could have sworn that a hint of feeling had washed through the charming irises. He shrugged the thought off in spite of himself.

The Cur seemed ready to strike, and pierce flesh, this time, but the baritone bark of Cuneiform caused a pause in the commotion,

"No, Sir, don't hurt him."

Sir cocked her head in a rather half confused, half angered manner.

"He might be able to help us hunt down the killer who-who massacred our Paradise."

Sir sidled towards the Komondor in question. Her fabric torn voice causing Argus to flinch in the soft dust,

"So you believe this wolf? I thought you said never to trust anything that had not felt the laws of society on its back?"

Mockery in her snarl now, but Cuneiform was calm in his reply,

"I never said I trusted him, but he has a suspect for the crime and if anything we may be able to find out if it was not he who did the deed. Besides, we have no where to go… Our lives are broken completely… What else is there to do?"

Under the dreadlocked sea lay the dog's eyes which might have been filled with pain or hate, as of the moment none could tell, but his voice was brimming with both passion and sorrow; which is a colloid note to be trifled with in the least. Sir had known this old timer for too long and could sense that he had made up his mind in the matter. The scorched, once white herding dog broke away from his past and headed confidently towards the wolf, and despite Argus' cowardly nature he drew evenly alongside Cuneiform as the wolf called Abik looked down upon them with a smile and another ghost of some forgotten feeling fluttering over his eyes.


	7. Sever

_Author's Note: Hmmm…Two of our main characters have just decided to accompany charming Abik to paradise, but what will Sir and the sandy wolf Tenqu say to this… All will be revealed… Hah, that sounded like a sitcom introductions, but I guess that must be the job of all Fan Fiction writers: to write summaries that sound like soap-opera-ish crap… Bleh.. Sitcom's and romance smell and are as overused as Thursday's garbage!_

_I'll shut up now…_

The browned wolf was obviously stricken with some degree of distrust for the white wolf, but Sir's emotions might only be described as pure hatred for anything and anyone who could not even chance to agree or be trusted by her. But passionate she was, and passionate she would stay. The muzzle, planted like an Arbor Day tribute, near the center of her face was still stiff and ragged from both slight singeing and from propelling to flesh and fur stay upright and alert. Argus could not help but expect the cliché spittle and foam begin to slip between the stained canines and her worn gums, but he was disappointed as she did not like to slobber during a fight or even the stirrings towards a fight.

That is a Cur's way.

But a wolf's is to question and so the brownish lupine figure raised his voice to the powerful ivory one in a rather cynical inquisition,

"Why exactly do you care? I've never met a wolf who wishes a dog to accompany him to paradise, nor one that reprimands a wolf for saying that only the lupine race may dwell there." His tail rose defensively, "I think you are lying."

The bone fur lycus merely gave a quick glance to his 'kin' and then seemed to silently whispered something into the wind; though Argus could have sworn that his lips pursed and the folds of flesh on his muzzle compacted dangerously. Abik then swayed away from both his followers and his opponents to look back towards the pearling sun. His liquid voice was smooth and low,

"What do you care about my beliefs? Is it not better to believe in something than stride about with no purpose?"

Swiftly he pivoted so that his jello quivering optics were evenly matched to the black hole irises of the sandy wolf and Argus could faintly hear the beginnings of a wavering growl in wind. But from which wolf? Before he could muse an answer the white one continued in his same deep and tamed voice,

"What's the point of living if you have no reason to breathe? No pride? Come if you want or stay, but either way you'll search, wander, and find… What's the difference when the searching has an actual destination to map? Come now, we are going."

Argus, somewhat entranced by the vocals of Abik, rationalized that the lupus was addressing him and Cuneiform. The older Komonder flanked the white one obediently and Argus stole a slight glance towards the defiant dog and the stubborn wolf. Sir was still on the verge of murder, but the stained wolf, the black eyed familiar merely sighed and raised his ears so that the points with were positioned at their zenith seemed more dramatized in the dappled musings of the light shoving its harsh way through the upper canopy. He was proposing some challenge to his zealous 'comrade',

"But you cannot know if your Paradise even is a true destination. I have never chanced to see it only any map or heard tell of any exact coordinates. You are merely going to drag some downbeat dogs along on a fairy tale quest."

"Fairy tale..?" the white wolf turned and another wisp of some thought flashed through his eyes, "if indeed I am chasing a fairy story than you are the legendary Big Bad Wolf for attempting to lead others astray. Surely, if you have any pride, living up to such a mislead stereotype is below a wolf?"

"Proclaiming a lie as truth is below even fictional fiends."

Sir, who had remained remarkably passive during the conflict of the lupi, suddenly gave a sharp bark and flew to the right of where she had been set; In her place, after a brief moment, landed a barbed arrow with falcon feathers tied with fishing line to the rear of the shaft. Argus threw himself to the earth as a humming noise whisked over where his frame had once been and then stopped after the vibrant 'shunk' of the arrow embedding itself in a birch tree. Abik barred his canines and crouched as if to take a stand, but the excited Sir had already seen this chaos as the opportune moment to throw herself into the lupus and begin to take out all her silent frustrations by physical means. Abik was thrown from his perch and the two lay sprawled in the dust for a brief moment before Abik tried to spring away from her, but she was neither wolf nor customary and so the laws of combat had never laid their opinions on how she raged. All is fair in mockery, all is fair in brawls, and though most wolves assume their circular mannerisms of combat make them noble Sir had no such conviction. Thus, Abik was, for an instant if even that, caught off of his guard.

She torn into his haunches worming with his nose to find ligament or sinew to break, Abik became tense for an instant but then, in a fluid motion not unlike that of the brutish stallion or the thieving serpent, turned back upon himself and tore her from his flesh by her ear. She bellowed from what sounded like humiliation and twisted in mid air so her ear ripped, but her fangs were secured upon the muzzle of her attacker. She bit down and the crimson flecks scattered eagerly. Cuneiform looked both pensive and agitated.

"Sir, stop this now! We are all in danger and if you two continue we shall all die."

He rushed towards her as another arrow flew by. Argus saw the expression of fear in the Cur's eyes as they darted from her opponent to Cuneiform and back again, wild, unknowing eyes that were both provoked and scared. Abik growled in what sounded like a premature form of pain,

"Listen to the dog-"

She tightened her vice and more the droplets of the humor trickled down both figures, she spat between her teeth,

"Don't speak, Wolf! Those who want to run may do so but I will not heel until this bastard lie dead by my own hands!"

She flipped him onto his back, but his claws shot forward and slashed at the base of her chest so that she was unable to disembowel him as she had so rashly planned, but as she let her aggressive stance slide he leapt up and turned the position of both of them in the fight, slinging her strong form into a nearby tree. And then he charged at it with a vile intention in his lemon eyes his tongue rolling over his black lips, dripping both of their substances like macabre breadcrumbs.

She must die as she was too hinder some, too set in her beliefs and grudges-

But it was not so as Cuneiform cut off Abik's crusade with his own body and the wolf yielded.

"This is pointless, you and the other dog go ahead I shall convince her, but it will have to be without you-"

"Old dog-"

"If you hesitate we will all die, now go!" He snarled with fervor so convincing that the white wolf looked with spite upon the Cur once again before motioning to the crouching figure of Argus.

They fled together, with the metronome of the white wolf's grace to shame the fearful lope of the herder who tried his best to keep the time. Argus could not help but glance back, though, at the clearing where the two of his own blood were still exposed, but the brush covered them now and all he could hear were the baying of pointers and synchronizing footfalls of the wraith running before him.


End file.
